“Your sarcasm is grating, Sean,” Verity muttered, one eyebrow
arched in disapproval. “I would advise you to keep your animosity in control
until you leave this auditorium.”

With that simple admonishment, she transformed him into a petulant
child. He’d forgotten the sensory link that allowed her to hear his thoughts as
easily as if he shouted them. A flush of heat wafted over his neck and cheeks,
and he ducked his head to hide his reaction from her knowing gaze. “Yes,
ma’am.”

“You should also work on your sincerity. Your penitent act is a
little weak.”

So much for hiding. “Yes, ma’am.” He clasped his hands on the
tabletop in the pose of obedient schoolboy. Inside, however, his stomach
roiled.

“Be that as it may,” Verity said. “Your services in bounty hunting
are no longer required. The Board would like to transfer you to the Probation Department.”

His head jerked up, and he studied her face for any hint of
ridicule. He found none. The most serene expression met his scrutiny. “Probation?
For what? For disagreeing with your destruction of two loving, innocent people?” He shot to his feet, screeching
the chair legs across the linoleum floor tiles. “Go to hell.”

“Sean.” A warning tone, followed by a sigh and a light tap to the
wrist, beckoned him back into the chair. A command he refused this time. “You are not on probation. Yet. But your
continued animosity toward me and the Board will not solve anything. I am
urging you to forget about Luc and Jodie, for your own welfare. Since you’ve
seen the Chasm for yourself, I’m sure you don’t want to find yourself banished
there.”

He bit his tongue to keep a perfect fuck you in check and shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

“Sit.” She jerked her head toward the chair where he’d eaten so
many meals as a child in Brooklyn. “We’ve much to discuss.”

Frowning, he dropped into the chair again. Why the hell couldn’t he
maintain some backbone around her?

“And don’t pout,” she chastised gently.

“I’m not.” He meant the
words to be a firm denial, but they came out an adolescent whine.

Verity laughed. “My mistake, then.” She laid her hands palms-up on
the table, and her happy expression sobered without becoming harsh. “This isn’t
a punishment or a demotion. You obviously can no longer continue as a bounty
hunter. The Board, however, believes you can become an excellent probation
officer. You’ll report to that department immediately after we’re through here.
Xavia is waiting for you. But first, close your eyes. I want you to watch
something.”

He barely did as she directed before a vivid scene popped into his
head. Unlike his last experience with this neurosensory mind-meld, the details
of Sean’s former lives did not fill his senses. Instead, he saw a young woman
staring into a medicine cabinet mirror. Her eyes, glistening from the strip of
lights above the cabinet and a well of unshed tears, shot lasers into Sean’s
heart. So much pain communicated from those sweet teddy bear eyes. Unbidden,
Sean reached out a hand to touch her, only to draw back when he remembered he
was viewing an image in his head. Whoever the woman was, she resided on Earth,
far from his place here in the Afterlife.

Scrick-tick.
Scrick-tick.

The strange rhythmic sound in her bathroom drew his attention. A
bottle of prescription painkillers, cradled between her trembling hands, rolled
back and forth, the plastic catching on the gold band on her third finger.

So much pain.

Where the hell was her husband? Even separated by dimensions of
time and space, Sean sensed how alone she was. Alone, abandoned, and rapidly
losing hope.

“Who is she?” The question erupted before he could stifle his
curiosity.

Verity frowned. “Her name is Isabelle Fichetti. And as soon as she
swallows those pills, she’ll become your responsibility.”